FROM GRISSOM
by Michmak
Summary: What happened after Grissom sent Sara the plant? Only they know for sure! S/G with some C opinions thrown into the mix - some swearing


Title: FROM GRISSOM  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: What happened after Grissom sent Sara the plant? Only they know for sure.  
  
Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.  
  
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"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sara muttered under her breath. She was finally back in her apartment after a long shift, and had thrown herself unto her sofa after placing the plant Grissom had sent her on her coffee table. The small florist card was in her hand, and every once and a while Sara would look at it in disbelief and snort.  
  
"From Grissom. From Grissom. From Grissom." The more she read the card, the angrier she became. She knew she was being totally irrational. When she had first seen the beautiful plant waiting at the office for her this morning, she had been thrilled. Grissom cared! He cared enough to send her plant! But the more she thought about it, the less thrilled she became.  
  
Big deal. He sent her a plant. He sent her a plant, and a vague, confusing card with it. 'From Grissom'. Not 'Please stay, Sara' - that would be too clear. Not 'I'm sorry, Sara.' Something like that would be too easy to understand. Sara angrily wiped the tears from her eyes and snorted again. Grissom had made her cry too often in the last year, it seemed, and she was getting sick of it. She never cried - not Sara Sidle. She was tough! She could take care of herself! She didn't need anybody! And yet - she did. She needed Grissom. And Grissom, it seemed, didn't really need her.  
  
Suddenly making a decision, Sara picked up her plant and marched to the door. Grissom was always telling her to follow the evidence. Well, this plant was evidence of something. The stupid card she had all but crushed in her hand was evidence of something. And Sara was going to go question her main suspect - the only one who had the answers she so desperately needed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"What did Sara think of the orchid?" Catherine looked at Grissom, amused at the sudden flush of embarrassment that stained his cheeks.  
  
He shrugged. "Don't know. I didn't ask."  
  
"You didn't ask her?" Catherine sighed in irritation. "Did you even talk to her at all today, outside of sending her to work that case with Nick?" At Grissom's jerky shrug, she continued. "I take that as a no. Listen, Gil. I have to ask this - are you really this obtuse, or is it all an act?"  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine, blue eyes shuttered. "I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Don't play dumb with me, Grissom. I know you better than that!" Catherine's voice was soft and strident. She angrily pushed her hair out of her face. "You can't just do that to a person - send them a plant, and then not say anything about it. She's already angry enough at you as it is. If she thinks you're trying to manipulate her into staying, you're a dead man. And I'll tell you something else, if she does end up leaving - because of your inability to even admit that you see her as a woman, you'll never forgive yourself."  
  
Grissom just looked at Catherine, blinking his owlish eyes and shifting uncomfortably. "She won't leave."  
  
"How do you know, Gil? Has she told you she rescinds her request for a leave of absence?"  
  
Grissom shook his head. "No." His voice was miserable, and Catherine almost felt sorry for him.  
  
"Then you're saying this based on what? The fact you sent her a plant, but then didn't talk to her for a whole day? You think pretty highly of yourself, Gil. Sara's not a doormat, you know."  
  
"I never said she was!" Grissom snapped at Catherine, suddenly angry.  
  
"You treat her like one." Catherine reached out a hand, gently squeezing Grissom's arm. "Listen, Gil - we see what the two of you are like at work. You're so close, you're practically in each others skin. She finishes your sentences, you finish hers. It's fucking uncanny. We've all seen the way Sara looks at you when she thinks no one is watching. We all recognize the smile you have only for her. So I don't know what you're trying to hide from, but it's not working. You need Sara, Grissom. She completes you at your most basic level, and as much as I hate to say it she understands you in a way no one else ever will - not even me, and we've known each other for ten years. So you better fix this, Gil. Because if you don't, I'm going to have to kick your ass."  
  
Catherine smiled at Grissom and quickly finished her coffee, looking at her watch. "I have to go and pick up Lindsey from Eddie's house. I'll see you later."  
  
Grissom nodded at her dumbly, following Catherine to his front door. As she opened it, she turned and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Go talk to her. I mean it."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was pulling into Grissom's driveway just as Catherine was climbing into her car. She smiled grimly at her fellow CSI, trying not to dwell on the ramifications of Catherine being at Grissom's this early in the morning, waving at her before grabbing the plant Grissom had sent.  
  
Catherine rolled down her window as she pulled out of the driveway, nodding at the plant in Sara's arms. "He meant well, Sara. Go easy on him - he's not used to this."  
  
Sara just looked at her blankly, before continuing up the driveway.  
  
She paused, collecting her thoughts as she rang Grissom's doorbell. It seemed to take forever before he answered the door, and the slight widening of his eyes as he saw Sara standing there would have made her laugh if she wasn't so angry.  
  
Neither said anything for a few moments, just looked at each other, stormy brown eyes clashing with shuttered blue. Finally Sara pushed her way past him. "Aren't you going to ask me in?" She demanded as she took off her shoes and headed down the hallway.  
  
"By all means, Sara. Please come in." Grissom muttered, closing the door and following her down the short hallway. He paused as he entered the living room, watching as Sara gingerly place the plant she had been carrying on his coffee table before walking over to look at the butterflies adorning his walls. With her back to him, Grissom allowed himself to study her anxiously, noting her tense shoulders and the brittle way she held her head. He walked over to stand behind her, their eyes meeting again in the reflection of the glass covering his collection.  
  
"I brought your plant back." Sara's voice was harsh, making Grissom wince at the sudden acerbic tone filling the living room. She broke their eye contact in the glass, and turned sideways, half facing him.  
  
"It's not mine, it's yours."  
  
"I don't want it."  
  
Grissom frowned. "It's a peace offering."  
  
"Peace offering? Please!" She looked at the plant scornfully, before turning to face Grissom fully. "Shouldn't a peace offering at least include a vague reference to being sorry?"  
  
Grissom looked at her in astonishment. "The plant in and of itself is an indication that I'm sorry. It's obvious. Whatever I did to make you so angry at me you thought you had to leave, I'm sorry for. Can we move on?"  
  
Grissom was surprised at the harshness of his tone, and even more surprised when Sara's eyes suddenly filled with tears.  
  
"That's what I'm doing, Grissom. Moving on. Thanks for clarifying things for me." Sara looked at her hands suddenly, blinking furiously at the scalding heat of her tears. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the little florist card, handing it to him, flinching as her fingers brushed his. "You can keep this too."  
  
Grissom looked at the card. "From Grissom." Suddenly, he was angry. "What the hell do you want from me, Sara?"  
  
"Not a damn plant, that's for sure! And not some off-the-cuff barely thought out sentiment like 'From Grissom' - you're so fucking original." Sara blazed back, just as angry. "What do you want me to do, Grissom? Fall at your feet because you sent me a goddamn plant? I moved to Las Vegas for you! I uprooted my entire life back in San Francisco to come here - at your request I might add - and what do I get? Ignored and patronized. I don't know why I even came!"  
  
"I don't know either!" Grissom roared back. "All I ever offered you was a job!"  
  
Just as quickly as Sara's anger had built, it was deflated. "Yeah. You're right. My mistake. All you ever offered me was a job. Well, thanks Grissom - but I've decided I don't want the job anymore."  
  
She pushed past him, heading down the hallway again, fumbling for her shoes through her tears. Her whole body was shaking with suppressed sobs, and her heart was beating so painfully in her chest she felt as if it would break through her ribcage and fall, bleeding, to the floor.  
  
"Sara." She didn't look up when she heard Grissom's voice. His feet came into her line of vision. "Sara - don't leave like this."  
  
Grissom's voice was strangely hoarse, and Sara felt his hand glance across the top of her head as she remained bent over her feet. It was shaking as it came to rest on her shoulder. Sara slowly stood, refusing to look at him yet unable to pull away from his warm grip.  
  
"Please let me go, Grissom." Her voice was broken. Grissom stepped closer to her, lifting his other hand to her face, palm caressing her cheek as he forced her to look at him. Despite herself, she leaned her face into his warm skin, purring under her breathe as his heat suffused her face.  
  
"I can't." His response was whispered, almost inaudible. He leaned closer to her, thumb rubbing absently from the bridge of her nose down to her mouth. His voice hitched in his throat, and he whispered again. "God help me, Sara. I can't let you go."  
  
Sara closed her eyes against the pain in his, reaching out a hand and bracing it on his chest as she leaned against the wall. Grissom mirrored her movement, leaning into her, forehead resting gently against hers as his hand continued stroking her face. Like Sara, his eyes were closed. Sara murmured something incoherently as she trailed her hand up to his face, stroking his cheek as he stroked hers. Her breathe was coming in sharp gasps, and every time she breathed in her chest rose and lightly brushed against his.  
  
Grissom's hand trailed down her cheek to rest at the pulse on her throat, before his fingers skated along her collarbone. The heat emanating from her body, trapped between the wall and him, was scorching. Her scent was intoxicating. And her warm gasps', moistly marking the skin around his mouth, was making him ache. Breathing in deeply, Grissom forced himself to open his eyes.  
  
Sara's skin was flushed, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. Her eyes, closed against him, still managed to betray her emotions - her eyelashes fluttered against the soft skin of her cheeks with a will of their own. Grissom slowly pulled his forehead away from hers, and her eyes drifted open, trapping his.  
  
They stood there together, locked in a moment, drowning in each others eyes. The kiss, when it finally came, was initiated by neither Grissom nor Sara - just a mutual meeting of lips. Grissom groaned as Sara's tongue lightly traced the outline of his lower lip and the small cleft in his chin before returning to his mouth.  
  
Grissom met Sara kiss for kiss, emotion overwhelming his senses. His hands trailed around her back, up under her shirt, stroking the soft firm flesh of her shoulders before traveling around to her front. Sara pushed away from him slightly; her expression dazed, and quickly slid her fingers between two open buttons on his shirt, fingers lightly grazing through the hair on his chest.  
  
It was like touching a match to gunpowder. With a growl Grissom was surprised to realize emanated from him, he rucked Sara's t-shirt over her head, and helped her unbutton his own. Flesh against flesh, they pressed together, hearts straining towards each other in a rapid tattoo of need and longing.  
  
Sara's soft hands were everywhere - stroking his chest, fingers raking over his ribcage and back around his shoulder blades, hands tangling in his curly hair. Her warm mouth followed her hands, trailing kisses across his torso. His mouth unconsciously mimicked hers, tongue trailing wetly across her collarbones and outlining the soft black silk of her bra, before sliding beneath the lace to the heretofore forbidden flesh of her breasts.  
  
Grissom was melting. He felt it deep down in his bones. He was morphing from Grissom to someone who was-not-Grissom. If he'd taken a moment to even think about it - to think about the urgent need flooding his body, the fire running through his veins, his pounding, stampeding heart - he would have been scared. But no lucid thoughts crossed his mind; every atom of his imperfect being was focused on Sara.  
  
Sara was focused just as intently on Grissom, imprinting his body on every aspect of hers. Her neck was so weak, it could hardly support her head, which she allowed to drop forwards onto Grissom's as he nestled into the warm flesh of her breasts. His breath - hot and damp across her nipples - sent fireworks through her body. The keening sound of her voice calling his name was unrecognizable.  
  
She responded eagerly when Grissom suddenly lurched upwards, lifting her and crushing her into his arms, before stumbling down through his house into his bedroom.  
  
They fell in a tangle of limbs unto his bed, rolling and laughing, nuzzling and touching. The urgency blazing through their systems was no less intense than before, but tempered now by something gentler - the sweet understanding of mutual desire soon to be met. Neither Sara nor Grissom spoke as they removed the remainders of each others clothes, neither turned away from the other at the naked longing flaring in their eyes. Sara smiled as she opened her arms to him, sighing with pleasure as he sank into her welcoming embrace, murmuring her name.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara woke up later that afternoon, her body aching and her heart singing. She heard water running somewhere in the distance, and smiled as she imagined Grissom in the shower. Turning with a happy sigh towards his empty pillow, her eyes spotted the crushed florist card she had angrily pressed into Grissom's hand hours ago.  
  
Wrapping the bedsheet around her lithe frame, she sat up in bed and gingerly picked up the card. Sometime while she had slept, Grissom had gone and retrieved it from the living room floor where it had been unceremoniously dropped. Sara smiled as she read it, happy tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Grissom, in blue ballpoint ink, had scratched out the 'From' and replaced it with the word 'Love'.  
  
'Love Grissom'.  
  
Smiling happily, Sara leaned back into the bed, hugging the words to her heart. She had her answers, and she knew she wouldn't be going anywhere.  
  
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Author's Note: Had to take a break from all the angst with my other story, and get back in tune with the Sara/Grissom shippiness! Don't get me wrong, I love Nick - I want him for myself - but I think Sara and Grissom belong together. Please R&R and let me know what you think. This is my first attempt at writing a real love scene - without getting too graphic. Did it work? 


End file.
